


Sweet Talker

by mary_sued



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, i'd be less thirsty if there was more content, i'll add more tags as they appear, look at this!!! more self indulgent dagur stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2018-12-24 05:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12006021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mary_sued/pseuds/mary_sued
Summary: Upon reflection this plot is pretty much a 12 year olds wattpad fanfiction but,, read it anywayKameron wakes up on a beach, almost breaks her leg then gets kidnapped. Yep.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for clicking on this.
> 
> I've used google translated Icelandic to make up the impossible-to-understand language, don't bother trying to translate it because 1. It'll be weird and full of mistakes and 2. It's supposed to be unintelligible.

Waves crashed nearby, steady and reassuring, like a heartbeat. The breeze that swept off the ocean was pleasantly cool against the constant heat of the sun. Her body felt light and heavy. If she didn’t focus, she would just float away, limbs separating like driftwood from a shipwreck. Thinking was like treading water, slow and with great effort. She gave up and allowed her body stretch languidly in the sun, letting oblivion swallow her again until she was able to grasp the world again.

She snapped awake.

The sand beneath her was cool, as was the wind skimming off the waves that were reaching up the beach to lick at her feet. She sat up, then fell as the blood rushed from her head. As she waited for the pounding in her temples to die down, she surveyed the night sky. Stars were spattered across it liberally, twinkling gently behind sparse clouds. It was gorgeous, actually. Reminded her of camping with her family, gazing up at the sky by the fire. A fire would be great right now.

She tried sitting up again, slower this time, and shivered on the sand. The waves practically whispered over the sand and she scooted away from it. The beach was empty when she scanned it, stretching endlessly to the left and curving around a bluff to her right.

Her biggest worry was, how did she get here? It reminded her vaguely of her summer vacation spot, but that had a caravan park right on top of it and she couldn’t see people anywhere. If it weren’t for the cold permeating her thin clothes, she would have passed this off as a dream. She still could, but the sea spray tasted salty and the sand was making her legs numb, and she had never been here before in her life.

She had to move, the cold was too much. Her legs wobbled beneath her and she stumbled across the sand like a newborn lamb. Behind her was a forest, unfamiliar trees weaved together into a tight blockade against the oceanside wind. As soon as she slipped into a gap in the trees the waves were muffled. Inside the forest was dim, moonlight filtered through the branches and she squinted to make out the shape of the undergrowth.

If she knew anything about surviving in an unknown area, it was that she needed a place to sleep. Exploring a foreign place in the dark was asking for a snakebite, or worse. Dreams were usually fuzzier about pain, more a suggestion of discomfort than the sharp prick of stones under her feet. Shrubs crunched as she pushed them aside, making her pause and check her surroundings. More than once she jumped as she spotted luminous eyes on the edges of her vision, but they disappeared when she looked for them. 

She tripped over a hollow log and it caved around her leg. Her face hit the dirt hard and the force of the impact sent her glasses skittering off into the grass. Snorting the dirt out of her nose, she pushed herself up and twisted to look at her leg. It wasn’t hurt - not badly anyway - but she couldn’t force it out. An experimental pull had her hissing in pain as bark dug sharply into her leg, peeling away the skin. Her first instinct was to struggle but she tried to keep calm and think. Maybe she could push, unhook whatever’s gotten into her? She gave it a tentative try and gasped as the wood cinched tight to her calf. No, no, definitely not.

Her nose scrunches up in concentration. Maybe she could break the-

The dry crackling of leaves to her right made her freeze. Did something hear her struggling and go out looking for an easy meal? She remained where she was, leaning uncomfortably on her shoulder in a cold sweat. God, she didn’t want to die here, eaten by some random animal. She laid there for an eternity, ears straining for any noise. The wind rustling the treetops put her on edge. Her shoulder was screaming when she finally moved again, curling in slowly on herself to dig her finger into the rotting wood. 

She wasn’t going to die here. She would fight whatever it was away with a piece of this stupid log if she had to. The creaking of the wood was impossibly loud and she grit her teeth against the rising panic. A sharp crack and she was free. Splinters dug into her fingers where she gripped the piece of wood and she whirled around, brandishing it in front of her like a sword. 

The forest was silent.

Her pulse was fast in her ears as she forcibly calmed her shaky breathing. It must have been the wind, or she had scared it away with her sudden motion. The unease lingered in the air, and in the way her legs trembled beneath her. She dropped her arms but kept a tight hold of the wood. A quick test of her leg proved that she could still walk, but it hurt like hell. Her uneven stride had her wincing but it dulled all the other small pains she had. 

After what could have been minutes or hours, she realised the sky was starting to lighten. Or, wait, not the sky. The forest around her. She stopped, peering between the tree trunks. To her left there was some kind of light, faint and flickering but definitely there. People, maybe? Some kind of civilisation? 

It could have been an abandoned outhouse, she was desperate for anything in her situation. She limped toward it quickly, leaning on tree trunks and crashing through the underbrush. It was getting brighter, it smelled amazing. A fire? A wood fire, maybe some campers? Please, anyone who could help her would be a blessing. 

She broke the tree line suddenly, unaware it even had an end, and found herself on the edge of a circular field. A quick glance showed that it was man made, the forest ending abruptly and tents scattered throughout. The fire was crackling merrily, some kind of meat skewered over the top, but it seemed wrong.

The tents weren’t canvas, or nylon, or any fabric. They looked to be made out of animal skins, furs draped over the cross beams for warmth. There were no sleeping bags, or coolers, and it was totally empty. The fire was unattended, and as she looked the atmosphere sucked the warmth from her. She took a tentative step back, suddenly unsure if she wanted to meet the people that lived here, but she stepped onto her bad leg and tumbled, knocking her head against a tree.

She slammed her eyes shut against the pain and cursed quietly, threading her fingers into her hair to cup the sore spot protectively. Her sigh came out as more of a growl at her bad luck. She snapped her eyes open and froze, as another pair caught hers from between the branches. Time seemed to stop.

And then it returned at double speed as the thing dropped down directly where she had been. She wasn’t sticking around to look at it, already she had rolled to the side and scrambled to her feet. The adrenalin kick cured her of her limp as she sprinted across the open ground, cursing her mistake as shadows dropped from what seemed like every tree. She skidded to a stop and tried to make a sharp turn but everywhere she looked there was another creature.

Terror welled up inside her. It swelled her throat shut and made her mouth dry, her legs trembled and she kept a white-knuckle grip on her pitiful piece of wood. A wordless noise made her spin on her heel to face the first thing she had seen. It was covered in the same furs as the tents, stalking toward her on two feet. The only thing she could make out was the glint of the fire in its eyes. The fear rose again, choking her and narrowing her vision. It approached and she raised the wood between them defensively. 

It cocked its head to the side and something akin to laughter rumbled out of it. She was so scared, and hurt, and confused, and suddenly angry. So, so very angry. She snarled, as bestial as the vision before her and in two strides leapt upon it. 

It gave a strangled yell as she struck out wildly, catching it by the throat. Her vicious growl was drowned out by its own and she was slammed to the ground. As the back of her head cracked against the dirt she saw white and let out a scream. The grip on her front loosened and she kicked up into the mass hard. She felt her foot connect to something and it grunted, but instead of retreating it pressed further over her.

Her panicked breathing filled the space between them and as it leaned closer she snarled in warning. It was breathy and weak but it backed off. Movement caught her eye and she glanced at the others. They were still encircling them, but at a distance. They hadn’t interfered at all. Although, pinned to the ground as she was, it’s not like they really had anything to fear.

Her attention snapped to the one on top of her as it reached up and tugged the hood of its… cloak? It shook its head and peered down at her and she inhaled sharply. 

It was a man. Flaming red hair tugged tight into a braid, kept it away from his face. Three dark stripes sliced down his face, messy and crude. He smelt like fire, were they ashes? They made his eyes seem luminous and manic. 

He inspected her as she did him, and eventually gave a feral smile. ‘ **Og hver, nákvæmlega, ert þú** ?’

‘... What?’


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Languages are hard, huh.

She stared at the man above her, bewildered. He’d spoken, but the sounds were strange and foreign and he seemed annoyed by her blank look.

‘ **Ég mun ekki spyrja aftur, hver ert þú** ?’ He spoke forcefully, the guttural nature of the language lending itself to the tone. 

She remained silent and he scowled, barking something at the others. As they approached she gave a warning growl but didn’t struggle. They set her on her feet and on the first step she toppled forward. Her arms shot out and caught herself before her face met with the ground again and she hissed, curling her legs into herself protectively. There were hushed murmurs around her but she was focused on the ache in her leg. She lashed out at the next one to approach and was gratified as it stepped back quickly. It seemed they were at least a little wary of her. 

The one she attacked snorted and hefted her up to lean on him, helping her hobble over to the fire. She contemplated shoving him away but the smell of the meat was tempting and her leg throbbed at the idea of fighting again. It was easier to be docile and allow herself to be placed by the fire. Uncomfortably, the man settled himself directly in front of her. The rest dispersed.

‘ **Skilurðu hvað ég segi** ?’ Did he expect her to understand? He repeated the phrase again, slower, as though that would transform the foreign sounds into meaning.

He sighed at her blank look and wiped a hand down his face. She looked past him at the meat and swallowed. Her stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly and he glanced over at her. He whistled, someone appeared from behind them and brought out a bag from which an apple was drawn. Not her preference, but she couldn’t stop staring at it. How long had it been since she’d eaten? Who knew. But crunching into that apple was suddenly the most important thing she could do. 

The man chuckled darkly and tossed it from hand to hand. ‘ **Viltu þetta** ?’

Her brow furrowed, how long was it going to take this idiot to realise she had no idea what he was saying. She sighed through her nose and pointed at the apple. ‘Apple.’

‘...  **Epli** ?’ She nodded hesitantly, hoping he said what it was and not ‘what’ or something.

‘I want the apple.’ He scrunched up his face in confusion and she pointed to it again, and then at herself. ‘Apple, for me.’

He cocked his head to the side, like some kind of feral bird, and tossed it to her. She caught it and sank her teeth in immediately. It sure wasn’t a Granny Smith, the juice was sour on her tongue and the flesh crumbled instead of crunched, but she devoured it ravenously. It was only as she was wondering whether or not the seeds were edible that she realised he was watching her intently. It made her skin crawl and she flicked the core over him into the fire, looking down self-consciously.

He wasn’t watching her so much as studying her. He pointed at himself. ‘ **Dagur** .’

Her tongue darted over her lip nervously and she pointed at him, ‘Dagur?’

He grinned and pressed forward, forcing her to lean back, and jabbed her in the chest with his finger.

‘... Kameron.’

‘ **Kameron** .’ She nodded and he giggled under his breath.

Okay, they have a repertoire now. Baby steps. She gestured at her stomach, clutched at it and pointed at the meat behind them. He glanced over his shoulder and laughed, ‘ **Hún er nokkuð klár, heldurðu að ég geti þjálfa hana** ?’

The others laughed with him and she flushed, sure she was the butt of some joke. ‘Oi, I’m not stupid because you can’t understand me.’ He turned to her slowly but she refused to be cowed. ‘I’m not the idiot here, none of us are. Don’t pretend you’re better than me because you’re not lost and alone and can’t talk your language.’

They were all watching her, probably just listening to the dumb sounds her mouth was making, and frustration hit her hard. ‘God, none of you have any idea what I’m saying. I could say literally anything and you would have no clue. That’s more annoying than anything.’ She sighed at the unease, people shifting quietly and watching her, waiting for an attack or something.

She wiped her hand over her face and sighed, holding her hand out to Dagur. ‘Apple?’

He wasn’t smiling anymore, instead studying her from under his brows, but he passed her another sour fruit and she munched on it quietly. He stood from in front of her and jostled her leg, making her curse and jerk it away.

The movement seemed to remind him that, yes, she was injured, and he called over another to her. This one pulled down their hood to reveal a woman, somehow more surprising. She had darker hair, almost brown, and a single dark stripe down the right side of her face. Her eyes were the same as his, albeit less intense, and she squinted them at Kameron suspiciously before talking over her at Dagur.

‘ **Hvernig gerðist þetta** ?’ What.

‘ **Hún hafði fótinn sitt fast í holu** .’ What?

‘ **Og þú hættir ekki að hjálpa** ?’ Okay, this was stupid.

‘Talk to the invalid or don’t talk at all!’ She piped up from between them, glaring when the woman met her eyes.

‘...  **Nott.** ’ 

The woman’s gaze bore into her own and she nodded slowly, responding, ‘Kameron.’

Nott bowed her head slightly and tapped on Kameron’s ankle, then pointing as she stretched out her own leg.

‘Oh, yeah, okay.’ Kameron did as she was shown and winced as the skin stretched. Blood had clotted over the scratches and now that she was focusing on them she realised they itched awfully. Nott began to prod, gently at first, but increasingly bold as Kameron bit her lip and dealt with the pain. 

When she found a particularly large splinter, though, her leg jerked away reflexively. ‘Okay, ow! Be a little more careful.’ Nott huffed and tried to follow her, but she pulled her leg up to her chest. ‘Knock it off!’

Nott rolled her eyes and barked something at Dagur, who laughed and ducked down behind Kameron. Her instincts screamed at her to get away, but he had already tugged both her arms behind her back and secured them there. She twisted savagely and shouted but he only laughed and held tighter as Nott stretched her leg out and sat on it. She gasped and bit her lip resolutely as fingers dug into the wound, eyes screwed shut against the pain. 

In the self inflicted darkness she could feel the heat of the fire mixing with the pain racing up her leg, the chest behind her rumbling in amusement at her pain, the trickle as her teeth pierced her lip and drew blood. The edges of her vision, dark as it was, were growing fuzzy. She opened her eyes, desperate to stay awake, and saw the manic grin of the man above her. He seemed to enjoy her writhing uselessly against him and she balked at the thought. The white was creeping further in and before she passed out she focused long enough to spit in his face. His flinch was rewarding, as was the way his grin morphed into a snarl, and she laughed until she fell unconscious.

 

‘You were too rough with her.’

Nott shrugged off her brother’s concern. ‘I didn’t slam her head first into the ground.’

‘It wasn’t head first, and how was I supposed to know she would fight back? She was injured, I thought she was going to surrender as soon as she saw us.’

They spoke over the top of Kameron, who had passed out a while ago. She was paler than before, but her leg was splinted and wrapped in cloth. The extent of the damage was unclear and they both knew what that meant.

‘I want to take her home.’

Nott sighed through her nose, ‘Just because you found her, doesn’t mean she’s yours.’

‘No one else wants her.’

‘Dagur-’

‘If we leave her here she’s going to die.’

She held his eyes, a tense silence descending between them.

‘And if her people come looking for her? You think she’ll tell them we treated her well, stalking and attacking her, making her pass out? Try thinking about the tribe for once.’

He growled at her but she was immune to his temper tantrums by this point. ‘Who could possibly be looking for her? It looks like she was abandoned here. No one travels to Dragon Island for fun.’

‘No one but you.’

He shot her a withering look. ‘Face it, she was probably left here to die anyway. Why can’t I have her instead?’

Trying to talk sense with Dagur was like slamming her head into a wall. Nott knew she wasn’t going to win this one, but she made one last token effort. ‘She can’t speak our tongue, she would make a useless servant.’

His razor sharp grin returned, ‘I want to teach her.’

‘Is this before or after you take over as Chief?’ It’s a jab he, impressively, ignores. 

Instead he nudges the prone form between them with his boot. ‘How long will she be out?’

His disregard for others opinions would be admirable if it wasn’t so irritating. ‘Hard to say, why?’ But she was leaving this fight to their father.

‘We’re heading back to the boats.’


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nott is my favourite character and I made her up.  
> Actually, someone else made her up. I've seen a reference to Dagur's sister Nott in two separate fanfictions so far but I can't find where the name came from, so sorry.

Kameron woke up in a bed. She blinked her eyes open and sighed in the soft darkness of the room. Of course it was a dream, some weird ice-cream nightmare or something. It was probably four a.m. and she would be able to roll over and forget all about it. That seemed like an excellent plan, so she stretched, and cried out as her leg gave a sharp pang. She fell on the bed and stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily. Her sheets weren’t this rough, her leg still hurt, it smelt like smoke and leather in here, she was not at home.

The thought hit her hard and she sat up carefully. The blankets fell away from her and she began shivering immediately. She tugged them up until she was sat swaddled in them and tried to make sense of what she had seen. A beach, the forest, the campsite, Dagur, the woman, knot? Her leg, the pain. Nothing stood out as the reason she was now in a stranger’s bedroom in the dark.

The door swung open and she startled, pulling the blankets tighter against herself. She could see the silhouette of someone in the doorway, but the light behind them and her lack of glasses made it impossible to identify them. They gave a short bow and went over to a wall, that Kameron suddenly realised was a window as heavy drapes were drawn to reveal daylight. 

It was a girl, younger than her by far, in a long apron dress. She was bewildered by the sight, even more so when she turned and curtsied to her. ‘ **Góðan daginn, dama, viltu koma til hádegis** ?’

Uh oh.

‘Uh, I don’t…’ She winced as the girl smiled at her, obviously confused. ‘Can you, uh. Dagur? Or, uh, Knot?’

She still seemed confused, but she bowed again and hurried out of the room. Kameron sighed and slipped off the side of the bed. She didn’t trust her leg enough to walk on it yet, so she used the bed as support. It was absolutely freezing and as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t wear the blankets out of here.

Or could she?

When she heard a tentative knock at the door she froze. She was rifling through what she assumed was a wardrobe and the little girl came into the room, followed closely by Nott, who snorted at her. She sent the girl out and raised an eyebrow at Kameron.

‘ **Kalt** ?’

At Kameron’s hesitance she mimed shivering.

‘Oh, cold. Uh, yeah, it’s really cold in here.’

‘ **Þetta er herbergi Dagur** .’ Kameron’s ears pricked up at one of the only words she knew. ‘ **Þú getur notað einn af yfirhafnir hans, ég er viss um að hálfviti muni svona** .’

‘I wish you would use simpler sentences, I’m trying to figure this out.’

Nott, predictably, ignored her and instead withdrew a lovely long fur coat from the depths of the wardrobe. She shoved it in Kameron’s direction and watched her put it on, straightening it so it covered her properly.

Nott turned to leave and Kameron stepped forward, catching her sleeve with her hand. ‘Um, thank you.’

Nott’s eyes always seemed to be scrutinising her and when they dropped to her hand she let go like she had been burned. ‘ **Takk** .’

She blinked, ‘Takk?’

‘ **Velkominn** .’

Nott turned on her heel, gesturing for Kameron to follow, and she stumbled along behind her. Velkominn. Takk. Thank you, you’re welcome. She smiled, then hid it in the fur. She would learn this language, little by little. She had to.

Nott was leading her down, apparently she had been up a set of flat stone stairs, and the closer they got to the bottom the warmer it was. After rounding a corner she found out why. A great fire was crackling next to what she assumed was a dining table. A long piece of timber laden with meat and bread. 

Nott stopped, so she did too. Nott bowed at someone sitting at the head of the table, she did not. Instead, she sized him up. He had a surprisingly kind face when compared to Dagur, sitting next to him, but they had the same solid build. Maybe it was just the way they were, Nott was also a real beefcake. God, what she wouldn’t give to be that muscular.

She realised they were all looking at her, Nott raised her eyebrows at her and made a bowing notion but Kameron frowned at her. ‘I have no idea who this guy is, I’m not going to bow to some rando.’

They may not have understood her words, but the intention was clear, and Nott sighed heavily before pushing her to sit down beside Dagur. His eyes lit up as she sat down and he plucked at the coat, glancing at Nott. ‘ **Er þetta mitt** ?’

‘ **Það var það eða frysta** .’

Kameron hated when they spoke over her, so she put her new words to the test. ‘Um, Dagur?’ Having his attention suddenly snap to her was disconcerting, to say the least. She gestured to the coat. ‘Takk.’

His face split into a grin and he started to babble at her, she could only make out Nott in the avalanche of words, but he seemed happy. She cleared her throat and he stopped, apparently eager to hear what she was going to say next. She felt like a wind-up doll. 

Her stomach clenched and she glanced at the table. She had no words for food, except ‘Apple.’

He laughed and said something to the man at the head of the table, then placed one of the plates of bread in front of her. She caught the man’s eyes and thought, what the hell. She pointed at herself, ‘Kameron.’

Dagur had probably introduced her, she hoped, and she waited for a response. It was an awkward wait, but she refused to break eye contact until he grunted a reply. ‘ **Oswald** .’

‘Hello, Oswald.’ That’s pretty ordinary, as names go. 

Dagur was beside himself, he started chattering away to Oswald immediately. She felt her time to talk was over, so she busied herself tasting everything set before her. The bread was a little stale, but with some butter it was fine. She had more luck with the little plums sitting in a bowl. Her fingers were stained purple from digging into the skin and she hoped her mouth wasn’t, but they were juicy and sweet and she hadn’t eaten in so long. She let their language wash over her as she ate, listening for patterns and anything she could recall.

There wasn’t much. She zoned in again when the voices got particularly loud and Dagur slammed his fist on the table. She jumped, dropping half a plum into her lap. She fished it back out, mortified that it may have stained the coat, and when she peeked up from under her lashes she found everyone’s eye on her.

‘ **Ég mun ekki senda hana í burtu. Ég er ekki að gefa henni upp, faðir** .’ Dagur’s voice was definitely angry, but there was strain beneath it. He didn’t take his eyes off of her.

‘ **Hún tilheyrir þér ekki, Dagur. Þú verður að skilja** .’ She had the sinking feeling they were talking about her, Oswald’s voice firm. ‘ **Ég myndi láta hana ákveða, en hún getur ekki talað** .’

Dagur’s eyes lit up and he whipped around, practically shouting. ‘ **Leyfðu mér að kenna henni** !’

Oswald frowned and stood up to tower over him. ‘ **Dagur** -’

‘ **Þegar hún getur skilið og sagt okkur hvað hún vill gera, mun ég láta hana velja** .’

They stared at each other and Kameron looked away, caught by Nott who sighed and shook her head. She felt exposed and unwelcome, uncomfortable with the stickiness of her fingers and mouth. Nott passed her a square of cloth under the table and gave her a strained smile as she wiped her face and hands.

‘ **Fínn** .’ Oswald bit out, clearly aggravated. ‘ **En þú verður að virða það sem hún velur** .’

He stormed out of the house and Kameron flinched as the door slammed. Nott stood smoothly, calling out to the servant girl who started to gather the plates up. Kameron didn’t know what to do. She stood slowly and startled when Dagur grabbed her arm. He was tense but he tugged until she turned to face him, then he pointed to the door. 

‘ **Úti** .’

‘... Door?’

He steered her to the door and opened it, gesturing to the outside world. ‘ **Úti** .’

‘Oh, outside.’

‘Ootside?’

She snorted, surprised by his attempt at English. ‘Yeah, Dagur, outside. Ooti?’

‘ **Já, Úti** .’

Their lessons were beginning, then.

* * *

She was a fast learner. Communication was difficult, it took a few tries sometimes to pinpoint whether we were referring to the same thing or not, but she soaked it in so well. She seemed determined to figure out our language. It was so fascinating, watching her fumble through basic words. Something about it was captivating. She would scrunch up her face in confusion, stare when she was trying to figure something out, smile brightly when she knew the word or pronounced it properly. And if sometimes he watched her a little too intently, well, she was his charge. Keeping a watchful eye was important.

Especially with spies hanging around.

‘Heather, dearest sister, what brings you to this neck of the woods?’

Kameron perked up as he spoke then jumped as his sister materialised from the trees behind him. A smile tugged at his lips as she cocked her head to the side and approached her. Gods, she was lucky she wasn’t an enemy, she’d have been dead on the ground by now.

‘Who on earth is that?’ His sister’s dry tone made him roll his eyes and he hushed her.

‘Let her try, she’s doing well.’

Heather came to stand next to him and put her hands on her hips. ‘You sound crazier than usual.’

He shrugged mildly as Kameron approached, giving Heather a tentative smile and chirping, ‘Hello! I, Kameron. You are?’ Her eyes were bright and curious and his smile widened.

‘Where did you find this idiot?’

He scowled and rounded on her. ‘Watch what you say, little sister, about my charge. She’s under my protection while she’s with us.’

She backed off, hands raised in the universal sign for peace. ‘Whatever, I’m not getting involved.’

Kameron watched them both attentively from a distance and it was creeping Heather out. She had eyes like a dragon, foreign but intelligent. 

‘At least introduce yourself like she did.’

She scowled at her brother, ‘Her grammar was awful. If you keep talking to her like that, she’ll never stop sounding like a baby.’ She turned to the girl, taking her in. Her hair was cut shorter than any of the men, skin almost as pale as hers, and she clenched her fists into the coat, probably a nervous gesture.

Dagur broke her out of her trance, ‘Stop profiling her like a victim and introduce yourself.’ His tone was short, so she acquiesced.

‘My name is Heather. Hello, Kameron.’

There it was again, that glint in her eye as she fed on information presented to her. Then, she opened her mouth. ‘Heather is hungry?’ She produced a plum from the depths of the coat and smiled.

It made Heather’s blood run cold as her brother laughed. So strange, this creature. It barely seemed human, wrapped in fur and broken words.

‘I’m leaving.’

Dagur slung an arm over her shoulders, wiping tears of laughter from his eye. ‘Go on, sister, take it.’

She shrugged his arm off but approached her. It was like approaching a wild animal, she watched her movements like a hawk. The girl simply held up the plum as a peace offering and she snatched it from her palm. ‘There, I’ve done your little social experiment, now let me leave.’

Dagur’s chuckling followed her as she stalked past him, but the call of ‘Welcome!’ from behind made her break into a sprint. Whatever his brother had welcomed into their midst, it wasn’t of this world.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just realised I should mention I don't have a beta reader for any of my stories, so apologies for any spelling errors or tense shifts (I'm prone to those) and if there's any that you find, please drop a comment and let me know!  
> Other than that, enjoy this hot mess.

Kameron’s leg was getting better. A week on from the injury and she was able to walk normally, thankful that infection hadn’t set in. Nott kept her on a steady liquid diet of earthy teas and meat that was supposed to aid the process. Kameron wasn’t sure how effective it was, so she spent as much of her time resting as she could. Thankfully, it was easy to convince Dagur to let her have a sit-down pretty much anywhere. They could stop dead in the middle of a field and there would be enough subject matter to keep their language exchange going for hours. She dreaded reaching abstract ideas.

As she became more mobile, the village became more tense.  Dagur liked to stay out late drinking and mornings were slow, but Kameron liked to be up with the sun. Often she would wake, raid Nott’s wardrobe for decent winter gear, throw on her coat (Dagur’s old one, made of wolf pelt apparently) and head out to explore. Everyone knew who she was by now and she would often be stopped and given seemingly random trinkets.

It had started with a shy little boy. She was sitting on the edge of a crude pier, Dagur had been called away for some reason or another, but they were in the middle of teaching each other ocean words. Differentiating between ocean and water had been a nightmare, but they managed. She was just mulling over the word for seagull (sjófugl), wondering whether it was broken into sea and gull like English or was an entirely different word, when he approached her. He’d cleared his throat, which made her turn, and babbled something as he presented her a little wooden ship. 

It was beautiful, really. An exact replica of the hulls of the ships nearby, complete with decorative carvings and a hollowed centre for its tiny passengers. She accepted it delicately with a little ‘takk’ that made the boy blush a pretty red. It was even better up close and she inspected it carefully, afraid too much pressure would destroy the lovely carvings which, she now realised, were tiny replicas of waves.

She smiled and went to give it back but the boy shook his head and retreated a step, foreign syllables pouring from his mouth. Kameron was stuck in this limbo for a few agonising minutes; she couldn’t understand what he was saying, was she supposed to play with it? Was it hers now? She didn’t want to accidentally steal something so precious from a kid. Her moral dilemma was solved by the reappearance of Dagur.

The boy grew visibly nervous in his presence and they exchanged a few rapid words as he assessed the situation, but he relaxed when Dagur’s face split into a toothy grin. He laughed that weird laugh of his and the boy scurried off, leaving Kameron confused and strangely guilty. That day, she’d learned the words for gift (gjöf) and give (gefa).

From then on it was like the floodgates were opened. At first it was only children and her room became slowly filled with toys; wooden carvings of boats and swords and horses, small bells, a few well-loved dolls and a tough little leather ball. It was Nott who finally explained that they were offerings to make her feel at home in the village. Apparently, because Kameron was so thin and weak, they assumed she was a child. Indignation bubbled in her chest and she made it quite clear that she was an adult and expected to be treated like one, even if she could barely converse like a two year old.

After that the gifts changed to coloured beads and carved bracelets, and when they found out she didn’t braid her hair a team of determined girls hustled her over to sit on the ground. Admittedly, they didn’t have much to work with. Her hair had only just begun to brush against the nape of her neck, having been kept fairly short before she woke up here, but they took to their task with admirable determination and Kameron came away with hair that no longer fell in her eyes.

Sometimes when she caught a glimpse of herself in the polished metal Nott used as a mirror to do her hair she would be surprised by how quickly she’d changed. On the better days she viewed it as her ability to adapt to the environment, but every now and then she would be overwhelmed by how far she was from the world she once knew and spent the rest of the day curled under a pile of furs, inconsolable.

That tension eased as she picked up more of the language, abstract concepts and all. As her self-confidence rose, the gifts started to decline. It seemed at first she was an oddity, a strange little girl that would parrot words back at you. But as she was gaining coherency and asking questions, the villagers became uneasy. She was kicked out of the weaving hall, the great hall, the kitchens and the blacksmith, and chased away from what she assumed was a training arena. The villagers weren’t as entertained when they realised she was learning.

The only people that approached her regularly were servants. Whenever she wanted to relax she would sneak around behind the kitchens and sit with a group of the young girls, including the one that served at Dagur’s house, and chat. Picking up on their speaking patterns was excellent, and their fast-paced conversation kept her on her toes if she wanted to know the joke.

The day seemed to be headed in the same way as she woke up and rolled out of bed, but a glance across the room revealed that Dagur was already up. It made her pause, maybe it was actually so early that he was still out? Or perhaps he’d had a nightmare? She couldn’t hear him shuffling around the room, or heavy boot steps from downstairs, but when she strained her ears she could make out faint yelling. It was emanating from outside, likely much further into the village, and she shoved her feet into her boots. As a last thought she left the coat behind. It was bulky and she tripped on it often, something in her gut told her she didn’t want to be clumsy tonight.

Kameron slipped out the door, the lack of people becoming more concerning by the second, and padded quietly toward the village. The yelling was still going, words still foreign to her ears, and flashes of light appeared at random intervals. She crept forward, careful to duck behind walls as the yelling got closer. She peered around a corner and her breath caught in her throat. 

It looked like a lizard, but at a gargantuan scale. Large claws dug into the ground and its serpentine tail lashed as it bore down on one of the tribesmen. He was brandishing an axe at it threateningly, but it paid no heed. A soft glow began in its chest and spread up its neck, followed by a rumbling growl. It parted its teeth and flames licked at its jaws, eyes narrowed at its target. 

Oh god, she couldn’t just watch him be burned alive. She glanced around frantically, but there was nothing of use, nothing to throw. 

It reared back and Kameron panicked, she jumped out and shouted, ‘Hey, you!’

It rounded on her and suddenly her vision went red. The light in front of her was blinding, and she realised it had flicked  _ wings _ above it that blocked out the sky. Oh shit, it was a dragon. A real dragon. Oh shit, she was so dead. It clicked at her menacingly and she stumbled, falling on the ground. She was going to get roasted and eaten by a real, living, honest-to-god dragon.

An axe buried itself in its front leg and it reared, behind it the man waved wildly at her, screaming ‘Go! Go!’

She didn’t need to be told twice, as soon as she had an opening she rolled out from under it and sprang to her feet. Its head followed her movements, wholly disinterested in the now unarmed man, and as she darted into narrow streets between houses it clambered onto the rooftops to follow. She tried rounding sharp bends and staying under cover but it was relentless, sniffing corners and nudging over walls to find her.

She was sprinting headlong down a street and skidded to a stop, attention drawn to a familiar face. Dagur was kneeling over Oswald in the village centre, wielding a sword against another dragon.

Another? Another! How many flesh-and-blood dragons were skulking around here! Her halt made the dragon following her screech to a stop, eyes trained on her every move. She couldn’t very well let her teacher be killed by these things, maybe they would lock eyes and fight each other? She had no idea how dragons worked, but lizards can be territorial. 

Her mind made in a second, she spun on her heel and ran at the second dragon. She had time to register two legs, a large mouth, spikes, before she was standing between it and Dagur. It readied its fire breath and she closed her eyes and shouted, ‘Stop!’

Her chest was heaving but it stopped its advance, cocking its head to the side. She held her breath as the silence stretched on until it shrieked directly at her. She remained still, baffled. Was it like a T-rex? 

Behind her, Dagur bit out something that sounded suspiciously like a curse. She glanced around furtively and bit her tongue hard, the other dragon was eyeing them off. It stalked quietly, head lowering slowly and tongue flickering like the fire between its teeth. The other one clicked in response and crouched, and she felt cold dread swell up inside her.

‘Talk to them.’ She startled at the sound of Dagur’s voice but didn’t turn to him. ‘Say something, anything.’

What was she supposed to say? Oh, hello bloodthirsty dragons, please don’t eat my companion and I, we’re not very tasty. ‘Hurry up!’ Shit, fine, okay.

‘Hey!’ 

They froze, the larger one’s pupils slid across to focus on her, the other twisted its head around like a bird until one beady eye was on her. She started to sweat under their gazes, ‘Back off!’

For a moment everything was still, and then they moved away. First the large one picked itself up and sat on its haunches, then the other retreated a few steps, almost nervously. 

‘What  **sagðirðu** ?’ Now was not the time for unknown words, Dagur.

The larger one zeroed in on him again and she chuffed, demanding its attention. ‘Leave him alone.’ 

It seemed to be considering her and, after one last long gaze around the area, took to the sky closely followed by the smaller one.

All the tension left her body at once and she took a shaky step toward Dagur, stumbling onto the ground next to him when her leg gave out. She tried to crawl over but her body wasn’t cooperating, so she sat shaking on her knees trying not to hyperventilate. How were they still alive?

She had no idea how long they were there, Dagur motionless over Oswald and her shaking in the dirt, when Nott appeared. Kameron started when she squatted next to her to check her for wounds. She didn’t have the mind to try and translate her thoughts, so she just pushed Nott away from her and motioned at Oswald. Nott nodded and left her, approaching Dagur slowly. She bent next to him and murmured something. He jerked his head away from her and growled something back. Kameron couldn’t catch any of it and when one of the tribesmen helped her stand and steered her back home she didn’t fight it.

By the time she shed her boots and crawled back into the bed, the covers still clinging on to her body heat from what must have been only a few hours ago, she wasn’t able to sleep. Her body was screaming at her to rest but her mind was buzzing, yet empty. It took a long time for her to slip into a fitful doze, glinting claws and cold eyes kept her tossing and turning for the rest of the night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while huh.  
> I haven't proof read or edited this chapter and honestly? prob won't unless there's something big I messed up. I like parts of this but as a whole I'm pretty iffy. Let me know what you think, yeah?  
> Enjoy

Kameron woke disoriented. The room was lit only by the final embers of a fire. She had to squint to make out the outline of another person creeping around the bed. She tensed reflexively and gasped as her leg complained. The figure dropped into a curtsy and padded over to the curtains, drawing them aside to let sun beam into the room.

It was Dagur’s servant girl, of course it was, and Kameron smiled at her hesitantly. ‘Hello.’

The girl gave her a nod of acknowledgment but continued to the other side of the bed to prod at the motionless lump swathed in furs. At least she wasn’t the only one to have slept all day. Comforted by the familiar grumbling of a Dagur disturbed, she rolled over slowly to watch him be roused.

It was a pretty amusing sight whenever she stuck around long enough to see someone try to get Dagur up before midday. Up until now she had only seen it while snickering and leaning against the door frame. This vantage point was much better. Up close she could see how his flaming hair, mostly pulled out of the loose braid he slept with, stuck to some dried drool on his face. He must not have shaved yesterday, because the ghost of stubble had sprung up around his jaw overnight.

There were also bruises. Angry reds and mottled purples, tinges of yellow made her wince. They bloomed across his back and disappeared under the blanket. Was he thrown into something? If he looked like that, what state was she in?

Surprisingly, his eyes slid open as soon as the girl touched his shoulder. He rolled it in response and Kameron settled herself in for a show, but he sat up lazily and waved the girl away.

As soon as she disappeared from the doorway he rolled over to face Kameron. ‘Are you okay?’

The genuine worry in his voice made her snort, ‘yes, Dagur.’

‘Good,’ he let himself sink back into the furs a little, ‘I didn’t have time to check on you last night.’

‘I’m fine.’ She tugged her cloak off the end of the bed and gathered it around herself, suddenly uncomfortable being under the sheets with a shirtless man.

Come to think of it, she’d never actually stayed in bed with him before. Usually she was up and about as soon as she woke and he didn’t go to bed until close to midnight. They only shared the bed in sleep, and this waking up together business was weirdly domestic. Was it even appropriate to be sharing a bed? Should she have gone to Nott’s room instead? Or did Nott think they were sharing a bed for a reason?

Kameron’s face flamed at the thought and she scrambled to say something before he noticed, ‘Is Oswald okay?’

She congratulated herself on keeping an even tone as Dagur’s face scrunched up. ‘It’ll take more than a couple of  **drekar** to put that old man down.’

Her ears perked up at the unfamiliar sounds.  _ Dre-kar _ , she turned the syllables over in her head, absently noting it was the plural form. ‘I’m glad. I like Oswald.’

Dagur’s bewildered look was lost on her, as she was still debating whether drekar would be spelt with a ‘c’ (derived from  _ draco _ ) or a ‘k’ (derived from  _ drake _ ). ‘You like Oswald?’

‘Yes. He’s the leader around here, and he does a good job.’

‘... You’re not wrong, but I’m not seeing why you like him.’

She sighed, complex sentences so soon after waking up were always annoying. ‘I can’t explain. He’s… nice.’

‘Nice?’

‘Yes, nice to other people.’

‘You mean kind?’

Ah, that was the word.

‘Kind isn’t exactly a celebrated trait to have.’

Kameron shrugged, ‘I like it.’

A comfortable silence descended as Dagur mulled over her words. Kameron fell into a doze watching the last light of the sun fade, the sky erupting into a myriad of orange and red before melting to black.

* * *

 

It was hard to see in the firelight but Kameron tried anyway. Her body ached. There wasn’t a mirror in here. Nott kept a short one in her room for doing her hair, maybe Kameron would ask her to borrow it.

The only damage she could see was her leg, now bruised and throbbing, and some scrapes and bruises on her hands from knocking blindly into walls in her panic. Painkillers weren’t exactly prevalent here, so she counted herself lucky. Could you imagine trying to deal with third degree burns?

A knock on the doorframe startled Kameron awake and she shot up, wincing as her back protested. Her cloak was pooled around her feet but otherwise she was barely clothed. She snatched it up and threw herself at the bed, wary of Dagur’s tendency to walk in unannounced. Halfway through burying herself in the blankets she realised; Dagur wouldn’t have given her warning.

The knock sounded again and she cleared her throat, smoothing out the furs on her lap. ‘Come in.’

Nott entered the room and she relaxed, throwing the cloak off the side of the bed, ‘oh, hello.’

Nott said nothing. She stood just inside the doorway, her features made sharp by the firelight. She seemed to be hesitating.

‘Are you okay?’

A terse nod. She glided across to the end of the bed with a grace Kameron could only dream of and settled. It was then that Kameron noticed the bruising laced across her face. ‘What happened?’

‘I didn’t come here for a friendly chat.’

‘I asked if you were okay.’ She scowled, ‘tell me not to bother next time.’

Nott’s glare was withering. ‘I need your help.’

‘I thought you were okay.’

‘Don’t-’ Nott stopped herself short and let the rest of the sentence out in a controlled sigh. ‘How can you make a simple conversation so frustrating?’

‘I learned from the best.’

‘Dagur does have a talent, doesn’t he?’

Kameron hummed, ‘so, why do you need me?’

‘Oswald is injured. Worse than he would have anyone believe.’ Nott’s gaze drifted to the window. ‘We’re not a weak tribe by any means, but even we can’t withstand the dragons for much longer. I’m afraid if Oswald passes Dagur will swear vengeance on them.’

From what Kameron knew of him, that was pretty reasonable.

‘We won’t win. I won’t lose our tribe to his pride.’

‘... What can we do?’

Nott snorted, ‘I can do nothing, and you can do even less. But rumour has it our sister tribe has managed to tame a handful of the beasts.’

‘I’m sorry, tame?’

Nott looked at her like she was stupid. ‘Not wild.’

‘No, I understand the word. The concept is more challenging.’ Tamed dragons. What on earth would you tame a dragon for. Do they eat them? Dragon meat? Dragon eggs? Dragon… milk?

‘I refused to believe it but if it’s true, well, we may have more options. Not that Dagur would consider asking anyone for help. His stubborn nature will kill us all.’ Nott sat up suddenly, peering at Kameron through the dark. ‘You understand that I wouldn’t ask anything of you unless it was absolutely necessary.’

‘Yeah,’ she snorted, ‘you think I’m useless.’

‘Not entirely.’ An amused smile flitted across her face. ‘You’ve been excellent at holding my brother’s attention. Which means you’ll have no trouble getting him to be more…  **móttækilegur** to my ideas.’

At Kameron’s blank look her smile fell. ‘ **Móttækilegur** . Open, willing, ready to do whatever I say.’

‘Oh! I- uh, I don’t think I have that much, uh, influence over him.’

Nott laughed, ‘Trust me, your sweet voice whispering my words in his ear will be enough.’

‘This sounds … wrong. You want me to,’ she took a moment to find her words, ‘manipulate Dagur?’

Nott waved her hand in the air, physically batting away Kameron’s concern. ‘My brother is an idiot. Very strong, very smart; a huge idiot.’ She glanced at Kameron’s furrowed brow and pursed her lips. ‘Are you going to help me or not?’

God, one attack had been enough to see her almost roasted. If there was a way to stop them it was worth a try, despite her lingering unease. ‘Yes. What do you want me to say?’

* * *

 

Dagur was brooding.

Not that he would admit it. Alone in the dining room he could glare at the fire as long as he liked and no one could say anything. No one would say anything anyway, only an idiot would accuse the next Chief of something so childish.

‘You’re sulking.’

His legs tensed but otherwise he didn’t react to the sudden voice. Sitting up with a deep sigh, he rubbed a hand across his face. ‘Who taught you that word.’

‘Nott. She said you sulk all the time.’ He could picture the smile on her face already, evident from the tone of her voice. 

It’s a harmless tease but he still growled in response. ‘She should know when to shut her mouth.’

There’s shuffling, leather on stone, and a soft creak as she let her weight rest on the chair. ‘Is she okay? Her face was bad.’

‘She’s fine. Took a hit for me, fell badly.’

Kameron frowned, ‘You sound upset. Worried.’

He leaned back into her. ‘What do I have to be worried about?’

‘Very little.’ She hummed, petting down his flyaway hairs so they would stop getting stuck on her mouth. ‘But dragons are very big.’

‘Dragons,’ he scoffed, ‘we used to sign contracts with dragon blood. They’re not a new threat, we can handle them.’

Kameron rolled her eyes at his attitude. His sister was right, his pride was going to kill them all. But, maybe, if she appealed to it…

‘You know,’ she had to tread carefully, ‘I was very scared yesterday.’

‘You don’t need to worry about another attack, just stay inside and you’ll be fine.’

‘I wasn’t scared because of the attack.’ Well, she was. She’d be an idiot not to have been.

But Dagur takes the bait. ‘What were you so afraid of then, hm?’

‘You weren’t with me.’

It’s a risk. He doesn’t respond immediately, and when he does it’s disappointing. ‘I can’t stay home and babysit you every time there’s an attack.’

Well shit. Time to bring out the big guns. Kameron centred herself and started to think about home. Her best friend, alone, waiting for her to return her calls. Her dog, laying in front of her bedroom door every night, crying. The homesickness she’d repressed slams down on her full force and she lets the sob colour her words. ‘What if you got hurt?’

He whirled around at her tone, ‘hey! Hey, hey, okay.’

‘Do I stay home and wait? What am I supposed to do? What happens to me?’ Her tears get in the way of her speech but they have the desired effect. 

Dagur all but launched out of the chair and hovered around her, concerned but unsure. ‘It’s okay, alright, just give me a- Nott! Where are you?’ He called into the house but she doesn’t surface.

Kameron just let the tears fall, sobbing until she was out of breath. It was kind of cathartic.

‘Nott! For the love of-’ 

She almost felt bad for him. Chief school probably doesn’t cover emotional breakdowns.

‘Okay, Kameron? Kam. You’ve gotta calm down. Just, just breathe for a bit. Please?’

If she weren’t so committed to the bit she might have laughed at his desperate tone. As it were, she had to milk this moment for all it was worth.

‘P-promise me,’ okay, the tears were getting a little annoying now, ‘you won’t l-leave me behind.’

He hisses a word she’s sure is a swear. ‘Look, it isn’t that easy. You can’t just-’

She interrupts him with a fresh wave of tears. No words. Just tears. How long will his resolve last, in the face of this watery barrage?

‘Ah, I mean-’ He curses again and she almost smiles in victory. ‘Fine. Yes. I’ll take you along, stop crying.’

‘You promise?’ She asked, sniffling.

‘Yeah, I promise. Now knock that off.’

If only it were that easy, jerk. With her goal accomplished, Kameron was suddenly aware of the gross mixture of tears and mucus smeared across her face. Come to think of it, she hadn’t bathed since yesterday. The thought made her itchy.

‘You called, Dagur?’

‘Finally. Could have been bleeding to death out here.’

‘Oh, brother, don’t make everything so dramatic.’ She sauntered across the room, looking Kameron up and down, ‘it looks like you’ve had enough drama for tonight. A bath?’

She held her hand out delicately and Kameron took it with a grateful squeeze. Dagur made a show of rolling his eyes. ‘Yes, alright, go.’

Nott hustled Kameron upstairs and dumped her with a servant, a warm bath steaming in the corner. ‘It was for me, but I think you deserve it after a performance like that.’

‘Oh, I-’ Her voice was still stuck in her throat and Nott ignored her. ‘You did a good job. We’ll make a woman of you yet.’


End file.
